


Cherry (Glitter) Bomb

by creepy_crawly



Series: Pride Month 2020 [4]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bad Puns, Gay Male Character, M/M, Pride, Pride Parades, Queer Themes, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24970867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creepy_crawly/pseuds/creepy_crawly
Summary: (or, Five Times Lee Taeyong Attended Pride and One Time He Was Celebrating)For Pride Month 2020
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Series: Pride Month 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778242
Comments: 6
Kudos: 74





	Cherry (Glitter) Bomb

**Author's Note:**

> One of the first 5+1s I came up with for June, and yet the hardest to write. Why? Who knows.
> 
> I refuse to feel shame for any and all puns and bad wordplay in this fic.
> 
> Anyway, happy Pride!! Enjoy!

– 1 –

“Taeyong,” Jaehyun tests, rolling the syllables around his mouth, tasting it. He grimaces for a moment, then nods. “Sounds good, bro. Good name.” 

Taeyeon – Tae _ yong _ – smiles back at him, or tries to. It’s not that he dislikes the name, because he doesn’t. He picked it for himself, after a lot of time spent poring over baby books and name websites, after saying hundreds of names out loud, after thinking through what his name should sound like and feel like and whether or not it should have anything to do with the name of the girl he’s leaving behind. But there’s something...something  _ real _ about hearing other people use it, about letting one of his friends call him by it. Something final. 

Somehow, that simple shift in syllable feels so much more concrete than the haircut, than rigidly controlling his calories to keep his body as familiar as possible, than a stay at a hospital and a diagnosis.

His parents aren’t...well, they’re not thrilled to become the parents of a son, but they’re not like Jaehyun’s parents were, when he told them he was gay. They’re way better than some of the parents of the others in Taeyong’s group, the one he goes to on Wednesday afternoons. But they’re not as close to Taeyong as they were to Taeyeon, and he’s not sure how much of that is the minefield left behind by discovering your teen is ritualistically starving themself, and how much is because of  _ why. _

He’s not sure he wants to know.

Jaehyun looks at his face, and makes a face of his own. “Seriously, bro. I can hear you working yourself up into an anxiety attack from here. Chill that.” Reaching out, he thwaps Taeyong square between the eyes.

Taeyong startles, shaking his head and blinking in surprise. “You’re an asshole, Jae.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes, putting his hands on his hips. “Water wet, sky blue, Pope Catholic. Now, come on, before we end up being late.”

Taeyong lets the other boy pull him out of the cafe where they’d met, down the street towards where Jae insists is perfect viewing space for the annual Pride Parade. The spot apparently combines shade, space for any breeze, and a comfortable place to lean your weight. Still, he feels it necessary to register his complaints about the way they’re darting down the street, nearly at a full tilt jog. “It’s not like we’re  _ in _ it, Jae.”

“Yeah, but if we don’t get there with enough time to spare,” Jaehyun manages between breaths, “some bear will be there, or a leather daddy. And you’re, like, short, so…”

“I will kill you,” Taeyong seethes, aiming a swat at his friend.

Jaehyun just jogs ahead, snickering, completely unbothered. Like he doesn’t know that taking aim at Taeyong’s height is  _ asking _ for a beating. Like he doesn’t  _ care.  _

The threat’s empty, anyway, and both of them know it.

“Here, hyung,” Jaehyun says, stopping in front of an old brownstone and pointing to a spot along the fence. “Squish in there. I’ll be right behind you.”

Taking a deep breath, Taeyong squares his shoulders and starts weaving through the gathering press of people, all covered in bright colors and glitter and sunscreen. He feels a bit like a sparrow at a gathering of exotic birds, small and unattractive in his simple feathers. Surely it’s rude to push through like this? But Jaehyun’s got a hand planted in the small of his back, and so he keeps moving.

He apologises to someone on platform heels, when he bumps into them, but they just laugh and flap a hand at him. Someone else sees him coming and gathers their companion in close, both grinning and giving him space to wiggle through. At the barrier, two of the people leaning on the plastic look up, smile, and move a little, so that Taeyong can slide in beside them.

Behind him, Jaehyun whistles. “Wow, hyung. Your baby gay powers are, like, amazing.”

Taeyong starts to scowl, but his planned retort is cut off by a bray of laughter. He looks over at the tall guy it came from, a little irked to have to look  _ up.  _

“First Pride?” Goliath asks, grinning at the pair of them. “For you, I mean – I recognise Jaehyun.”

“Hey, Johnny,” Jaehyun says, exchanging a complicated fist bump handshake dance with the other boy. “This is my friend Taeyong. We go to school together. And, yeah, baby’s first Pride.”

“I’m a whole year older than you,” Taeyong sighs, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He contoured this morning; he’s not fucking that up, not for Jung Jaehyun.

Johnny laughs. “That makes me your hyung,” he says, turning towards Taeyong and offering one massive paw. Seriously, his hand’s the size of a dinner plate. It fair swallows Taeyong’s when they shake. “I’m two older than Jae.”

“Nice to meet you,” Taeyong says, years of conditioned manners kicking in. “Where’d you meet Jaehyun?”

“Youth Center,” Johnny says, casual, like saying so doesn’t suggest that his parents left him homeless for his sexuality or gender identity. 

“Johnny’s mom’s one of the parent counsellors,” Jaehyun says, correcting that impression quickly. “Mrs Seo’s the one who taught me to make those noodles you love so much.”

Taeyong casts a considering look over Johnny’s form. He may be tall, but he’s certainly not  _ built _ like he’s been eating those noodles – or anything that delicious – his whole life. Or like he has ready access to them.

Johnny raises his hands. “Mom teaches folks at the Center because every single person in her immediate family could burn water without even turning on the stove,” he says. “Dad and I are only allowed into the kitchen together, so that one of us survives the initial explosion and calls 911.”

Despite the nerves still churning in his gut, Taeyong snorts a laugh.

Johnny beams.

– 2 –

“Get in the car, losers!” Johnny yells, sticking his head out the window of his beat up blue clunker. “We’re going Priding!” He’s wearing huge sunglasses with rainbow frames, strands of multicolor mardi-gras beads, with…

“Sweet lord, is that glitter?” Taeyong asks, making a face.

“That is glitter tanning lotion,” Johnny agrees, playfully flexing an arm in his face.

Taeyong tries not to notice how big the man’s bicep is. Seriously, he makes a conscious effort. For all the good it does him, because holy shit, he’s pretty sure he couldn’t fit both his hands around that.

“That’s disgusting,” Taeyong says, walking around to the other side of the car and letting himself into the passenger seat. “Do you think your skin cancer will sparkle?”

“Of course,” Johnny says. “It’s that sparkling wit of mine.” He winks.

“Disgusting,” Taeyong answers, pulling his seatbelt on. He can hear Jaehyun and Doyoung cackling behind them already, and deliberately tunes them out. Ignorance is the better part of bliss, where those two are concerned.

“Oh?” Johnny asks, starting the car. He doesn’t roll up the window. 

Taeyong suspects it’s because the window can’t be rolled up. The car’s primary color is Bond-o, beneath the duct tape and above the rust. “Oh,” he answers, sitting primly in his seat and facing the road. He pulls a pair of rainbow sunglasses out of his own bag and slides them on as they leave the grounds of the university. “I prefer mine imported from the Sarcasm region of France, actually.”

Johnny’s laughter rolls out behind them, audible even over the grinding whine of the car accelerating.

– 3 –

“I can’t believe our first date is to Pride,” Taeyong snorts, arms folded as he waits for Johnny to finish paying the cashier for their coffees. Well, his coffee, and Johnny’s unholy combination of sugar, cream, and espresso shots.

The barista nearest him, their hair spiked up in a mohawk, tinted with the NB flag’s colors, laughs. 

Johnny grins, shameless, and shrugs. He steps closer to Taeyong, out of the line of people looking for their caffeine hit, arms by his sides. “What can I say?” he asks. “I like traditions. Like going back where you first met a person.”

“You’re so cheesy!” Taeyong protests, feeling his cheeks heat. He’s grinning, though, and knows it’s obvious to anyone looking how he feels about Johnny. Whatever; this is a queer-owned cafe before Pride. No one here cares about him, or his gay boyfriend, except maybe to be jealous of how Taeyong’s landed this seriously gorgeous man.

As they should be.

Taeyong realises suddenly that Johnny’s just standing there, watching him, and he makes a face. “What?” he asks. “Do I have something on my face?”

Johnny pretends to examine him closely, going so far as to put his hand under Taeyong’s chin, tilting his face up and twisting it gently this way, then that. He even reaches up to catch his rainbow sunglasses as they start to slide free from his hair.

“Johnny,” Taeyong starts, feeling a nervous smile start to twitch in the corners of his lips.

“There it is,” Johnny says, mock serious. Leaning in, he presses a dry, chaste kiss to the rosy apple of Taeyong’s cheek, instantly setting it aflame.

While Taeyong’s trying to convince his heart to slow back down, that they shouldn’t just burst into flames right where they stand, Johnny goes to collect their drinks, now finished. He comes back already sipping at his, destroying the colorful swirl of tinted sugars that one of the baristas probably spent far too much time twirling together. He holds out Taeyong’s cup.

“Come on,” he says around his straw. “The barista told me that they’ve got someone painting faces; proceeds go to the Lesbeans Learning Initiative.”

Taeyong tangles their fingers together as he follows Johnny through the crowd – amazing how six foot of a man navigates a packed space so easily – towards where a couple of girls are painting rainbows of various types on cheeks, glitter already liberally adorning them, their aprons, their arms, and the floor around them. They look young enough to be some of the baristas-in-training, the aforementioned Lesbeans, kids from the Youth Center learning job skills to help them pay for college and life.

“Hi!” one of the girls says, her round cheeks flushed bright with joy and the heat of the packed space alike. “What can I paint for you? Simple flags are a dollar each, these patterns are two dollars, and we’ll add glitter for an extra 50 cents, unless it’s included, in one of these three dollar designs.” She points to the page in front of her.

Taeyong looks at the colored flags in their page protectors, then pulls out a couple of dollar bills. “One of these,” he says, pointing to one, “and one of these. And don’t skimp on the glitter, yeah?”

She giggles and complies.

Seated next to him, his own cheek getting painted, Johnny watches the colors streaking Taeyong’s skin. Not looking down, he tangles their hands back together, then tugs Taeyong’s fingers up to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to the bony ridge of his knuckles.

– 4 –

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Yerim says, darting in and stepping between Taeyong and an open crate of supplies. She puts her hands on her hips and glares at him, seemingly not caring that she has to look up, even in her glittery heels. “You’re not allowed to pick up anything besides hot men, and there’s an embargo on those. Johnny said.”

“Oh, well, if  _ Johnny _ said…” Taeyong says, raising his hands in surrender. He keeps his arms close to his sides, though; he hadn’t actually planned on picking up the bin, because while his surgeon has cleared to resume light exercise, he’s still very, very nervous of disturbing his healing body. Still, he’s feeling a tad useless, floating around the piled supplies at the Youth Center, not allowed to help hang decorations, pick up crates, or do much more than look handsome.

“What did I say?” Johnny asks, sailing in through the door, carrying not one but two take out trays of coffee.

“Apparently, I’m not allowed to pick up hot men?” Taeyong says dryly, peering through the coffees for his own. He’s had one already, but that was from their Keurig at home, hours ago. It’s well past time for another, and Grind So Fine roasts their beans perfectly.

Johnny hums, turning one tray so that Taeyong can see his name scrawled messily on the side of one of the cups. “Likely weigh more than a gallon of milk, babe,” he says.

Taeyong follows him over to the folding table, where he sets down the coffees. “Mm, guess I’ll just have to have you hoist them over your shoulder, then.” He cradles his coffee close between his hands. 

Playful, Johnny flexes an arm, wiggling his eyebrows at the same time. 

Having expected this, Taeyong hasn’t yet taken a sip of his coffee. He rolls his eyes at his boyfriend’s shenanigans, even as the familiar little curl of heat twists in his belly. Johnny’s hot, especially now that he’s as familiar as he is with what he’s hiding under all that jock “fashion”. Sue him for appreciating it.

Johnny just grins, shameless. “Mom just got back,” he says, turning back to the coffees and starting to pull them out of their little cardboard cells. “I saw her on my way in. She said to warn you that she’s going to make you change.”

Taeyong looks down at what he’s wearing: shorts, a simple undershirt, and a blue gingham button down dotted here and there with rainbows. His sunglasses are tucked in a pocket, for when he’ll need them, and Yeji’s painted a trans pride flag on his left cheek and a gay pride flag on the right. His toenails, just visible from beneath his sandals, are also painted with rainbows. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“You’ll develop sunstroke,” Mrs Seo answers, striding into the room, a cardboard box in her arms. “It’s half a thousand degrees out there, honey, and it’s not even 9.” She reaches in the top of the box, pulls out a tye-dyed rainbow tee, and waves it at him. “Go on. Get changed.”

Taeyong shakes out the shirt. It reads, “If You’re Queer, We’re Here” and has the Youth Center’s logo on it. He likes the message, certainly supports the cause, but…

“I told you he’d never wear tye-dye, Mom,” Johnny says, shaking his head. “Taeyong’s a style gay.”

Taeyong makes a face at him. “At least I know black tie doesn’t refer to shoelaces.” He tosses the shirt over his shoulder, then gestures to the bathroom with his thumb. “Johnny, can you help me get this over my head?”

– 5 –

“You are an embarrassment,” Taeyong says archly, pulling a tube of sunscreen out of the plastic crate sitting next to him, just under the folding table. 

Johnny, having just ducked under the tent top providing shade for the booth, grins sheepishly. His shoulders, revealed by the thin straps of his tank top, are already pinking up. “I thought I’d remembered!” he protested, pouting dramatically.

Taeyong just shakes his head, squirting a glob of thick white sunscreen into his palm. He recaps the tube, sets it down, and then rubs the lotion between his hands. Then, reaching up, he begins to smooth the thick lotion over his boyfriend’s shoulders. He’s careful to get his fingers under the tank top, working towards Johnny’s throat, and also to work down his muscular arms. “Can’t believe you forgot your arms, you moron.”

“Your moron, though,” Johnny teases, leaning down and stealing a kiss.

Taeyong splutters. “Johnny!” He squeezes Johnny’s shoulder in reprimand.

The taller man presses up close, reaches behind Taeyong, and grabs the bottle of sunscreen. After blinking at the label for a second, he takes a step back, and uncaps the sunscreen once again. Turning his open palm up, he dispenses another glob, then starts splatting it against his lower arms in thick blots.

Without being asked, Taeyong starts helping him rub the lotion in. The glitter sunscreen that they’ve been using is mineral based, so it’s thick and takes a lot of effort to work in. Even with the pair of them, it takes a few moments of work to really get all the streaks and globs fully massaged into Johnny’s skin, no longer visible.

Once it is worked in, Taeyong tangles his fingers with Johnny’s, looking down to see how the other man’s long fingers look woven through his own. He can’t help but grin, seeing the mess of glitter streaking across his hands from the sunscreen. He squeezes Johnny’s hands, then releases them. Looking up with a bright grin, he draws his pointers across Johnny’s cheeks.

Johnny huffs a laugh. “Needed a little more glitter, did I?” he asks.

“You’re probably overdue for a reapplication on your face,” Taeyong says wryly. “Assuming you didn’t forget some part of that this morning.”

“Such doubt,” Johnny mocks, leaning in again. He takes Taeyong’s face between his palms – undoubtedly getting glitter everywhere – and kisses him sweetly. 

Taeyong lets himself melt into the other man’s bulk, his smartass comment being stolen away with every press of lips.

– +1 –

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this dressed down for Pride,” Doyoung murmurs, casting a sidelong glance at Johnny. 

Johnny looks down at his rainbow striped t-shirt, the rainbow belt through the loops of his black chino shorts, his rainbow toenails thanks to Jaehyun and Taeyong’s last margarita night. Looking up, he raises an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah,” he deadpans. “Downright heterosexual. Positively staid.”

Doyoung makes a face. “Even you have to admit that’s far less glitter than you usually sport,” he defends.

That just makes Johnny grin. “Is it, though?” he asks. Holding up his left hand, he wags it in front of Doyoung’s face.

Doyoung’s gasp is satisfying. So is the way he snatches up Johnny’s hand, flexing out his fingers and gaping. “Johnny! He asked?”

Beaming, his grin stretching from ear to ear, Johnny nods. “Last night,” he says. “After the benefit. While we were all dressed up.”

His best friend makes an absolutely ear-piercing screech and leaps on Johnny, hugging him tightly, and undoubtedly depositing a fair amount of glitter on his clothes. 

Doyoung’s still clinging to him by the time they make it to the parking lot that’s serving as a staging area for the floats, every once in a while snatching up Johnny’s hand again to ogle the ring. 

Taeyong’s got great taste, Johnny knows, and so does anyone who sees the ring. It’s subtle, a simple silver band with a solitaire-cut stone set in the center. It shines bright like a diamond, but Taeyong had confessed to him that it was a white sapphire — “all of the glitter, none of the blood money or child slavery,” he’d quipped. Johnny loves it, because it’s clean and elegant and Taeyong, sophisticated enough that he can wear it to work but shiny enough that it feels extravagant. 

“Ew,” Doyoung says, finally stepping away from him as they enter the tangled maze of floats. “You’ve got your Taeyong face on.”

“SEO YOUNGHO!” rings out across the parking lot.

Johnny grimaces. “Ah, I gather Taeyong’s told Jae.”

Sure enough, Jaehyun comes striding towards them, hands on his hips, feathered bustle fluttering behind them. “Seo Youngho! What’s this I hear? My bestie puts his heart on your hand and you haven’t even had the grace to put pictures on Facebook yet?”

Behind him, Taeyong rolls his eyes. He plants one hand square in the center of Jaehyun’s chest, shoving him aside, then steps up to Johnny and presents his cheek – already flag-painted and dressed with glitter – for a kiss. Getting it, he beams. “I told him we’d gone straight home and to bed after the benefit,” he says, “but Jaehyun can’t believe neither of us thought to post pics. Or even to text them to him.”

“Sorry, Jae,” Johnny says, tucking Taeyong close against his side and offering his hand out for the other man to get a good look at his new jewelry. “My fault. I was keeping Taeyong a little occupied, last night. He had his hands full.” 

Taeyong backhands him gently as he leers. “Don’t be crass, Johnny.”

Jaehyun releases Johnny’s hand, shaking his head. “Besides, I already know it’s his mouth you had full. Tae sounded like the tail end of a week-long flu when he showed up this morning. I’m guessing by the way you’re dressed it’s not you dancing with me this year?”

“That’d be Doyoung,” Johnny says, patting his friend on the back. “Taeyong and I are gonna be working the booth for the Center, since Mom broke her foot and can’t be standing around for hours.”

“Volunteering to be at your soon-to-be mother-in-law’s beck and call for a few hours, on the hottest day of the year, right after you asked her son to marry you? You are either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid,” Doyoung says, slapping Taeyong’s shoulder as he walks past him to join Jaehyun. 

“Probably both,” Taeyong replies. “But I did promise her that she’d get to see what the ring looked like on Johnny’s hand pretty soon after Johnny did, so…”

Johnny narrows his eyes. “Wait, did my mom know?”

Taeyong’s responding look is unimpressed. “Yes, John, your mother knew. How do you think I knew your ring size? She still has your college class ring in the house.”

“Betrayed on all sides, wow,” Johnny says, shaking his head. He tucks Taeyong a little closer against himself. “Ready to go? Got the keys?”

Taeyong holds up the fob. “All the stuff for after is in the car. There’s also a…” he takes a deep breath, then says, “Pretty Pride Passionfruit Punch with your name on it. Complete with edible glitter, courtesy of Grind. And Yuji’s knowing looks.”

Johnny feels his grin stretching, stretching, until it feels like his face could split in two. “God, I love you,” he says. Catching Taeyong’s elbows, he pulls his fiance – his fiance! – in close and kisses him absolutely breathless.


End file.
